I’m the daughter of Marcelo Lombardi, you know, one of Gotham’s crime lords. Maybe you don’t, since his reputation is far more sterling than that of Carmine Falcone. Uncle Carmine can’t really help himself, they say. Daddy just happens to be known as the ‘Godfather’, after that old Francis Ford Coppola film, because of his good nature. Like Vito Corleone, daddy doesn’t debase himself to drug lord. I know what my father does and is and I also know my brothers assist him. He wants me not to know so I play the good little Sicilian girl and ignore it. This evening, however, I can’t ignore it anymore. My brother Guido and I are being followed, I can tell by the way he has my arm. His other hand is in his jacket. We had been enjoying a movie when he had insisted we leave early. Our men went one way, we went another. Apparently the pursuer wasn’t fooled…Unless there were more than one.
“This way, Bella,” he whispers, tugging my arm toward our Rolls Royce. The shot rings our on that deserted street and just like that, Guido’s gone. I catch his body before it can hit the ground, but it’s far too heavy for me to support. The blood streams steadily from the smoking hole in his forehead. I’m next. Poor Guidy’s eyes are frozen in angry terror. I close them and do the only thing a woman in my situation can do; I scream.
The second shot comes, alright but not how I expect. An explosion of searing pain and heat rips through my leg. Collapsing to my knees, I drop Guido’s body completely. The pain turns to numbness and fury comes to the surface. I dig into Guido’s coat and pull out of a shoulder holster a gargantuan magnum. I know the force of it will rip my arm off but the last thing I’m doing is thinking rationally. I search frantically with panicked eyes for the source of the sniper fire. In my peripheral, a dark figure is approaching me. He isn’t the shooter. My arm drops. It’s the Batman. I’ve never seen him before but who else could it be?
“Let me see your leg,” his voice is gruff, a rumbling bass. He takes the gun as I hold it out and sets it down, dropping to one knee before me. My dress is stained with blood both mine and not. As I lift it, I have to look away.
“Clean hole,” he mumbles, “Missed the growth plate.”
“I’m an adult,” I venture.
“If the bullet had damaged that, you’d never walk correctly again,” he replies, evenly, “As it is, you’re going to have a hard time but you ought to make it.”
I screw my eyes shut as he disinfects and wraps the wound that is just above my knee. For being gauntleted, his touch is delicate.
“Bella Lombardi,” I whisper. He stands, hands on my waist to steady me. There’s something about him that’s extraordinarily alluring. But that’s a silly thought, every woman in Gotham wants the Bat. No, that’s not true either. Most people fear him.
“I know,” he answers. I’m not surprised about that at all. They say the Batman is everywhere at once. I, for one, believe it. Unconsciously, my hands are tracing over the broad chest before me as my mind dashes hither and thither. Finally, it settles on something concrete.
“Who killed my brother?” I ask the Batman, “Was it one of the Russian’s men…?”
“I can’t…”
“What do you mean?!” suddenly, I am no longer smitten but enraged, “How dare you!!”
I reach up to smack him. He catches my hand easily.
“Because, vengeance is an ugly feeling for a woman to have, and you are not an ugly woman.”
“Better to let men do the work, huh?” I’m insulted, hurt, and worst of all, alone. I’ve come to the conclusion that whoever just killed Guido had also killed my other four brothers. I know the ‘boys’ will be on scene in a matter of minutes to collect the body as soon as I get to Guido’s cell phone. For some reason, however, I don’t really want them to come. He hasn’t replied but his silence speaks volumes. I had always thought the Batman would be a soul-less shadow or mechanic in his manner. This man before me, for that is how I now see him, is an individual much like myself. Unlike me, though, he stands up against the freaks and dregs of Gotham to create a better world. No matter how hopeless it sounds, he isn’t giving up. I’m feeling something strange within me as he holds my waist. I don’t suppose I’ve ever felt this way around any other man. I can’t even see his face. This is ridiculous.
“I should call the others,” I whisper, breaking the silence and looking up into an expressionless mask. He shakes his head, “The police are already informed.”
Neither of us move for what seems like hours and hours. My thoughts race when I look away from him. When our gazes meet, however, everything slows. It’s warm and his hands are strong and firm about my waist. I want him to pull me closer. It’s as though he’s reading my mind, or perhaps that our minds are already one. His arms wrap around me, pulling me gently to him. Resting my head on his chest, I have the strange feeling that everything may just turn out alright, not just for me and my family but for the whole of Gotham City. The reason? This man who holds me so close, as if we’ve known each other for an eternity. I wish we had. Somehow, my lips find his and, standing there on a dark curb of an equally dark Gotham street, on the toes of the heels I’m wearing, I become the first common Gothamite to kiss the Batman. His mouth is gentle on mine, but also commanding. The flavor is spicy and dark, just like I had suspected. Sirens in the distance cause both of us to hesitate and pull back, though his arms are still around me.
“I owe you,” I told him, “So much…Thank you.”
He shook his head, “No one owes me anything.”
“The entire goddamn city owes you, Batman,” I speak sharply, “And what do they do? They fear you, they ridicule you…They’re too pompous to own up to the fact that this place would wither and die without men like you…Without you.”
“Bella…”
“Well I, for one, will never, ever again be one of those,” I state, adamantly, “I won’t allow anyone to ever slander you again.”
I’m feeling suddenly very dizzy and I lean heavily on Batman for support. The squad cars round the corner up the street and come screeching to a halt around the Rolls Royce and the rest of the crime scene.
“I have to--”
“Go, I know,” I cut him off, “Will I ever see you again?” it is the plea of a desperate, love-struck girl and we both know it. He appears thoughtful under the cowl for a moment before letting me go and slipping into the shadows.
“I’m sure.”
Not long after, I’m sitting in a squad car, headed for the Gotham Hospital. The entire night zips by in a haze as my mind is occupied with my Dark Knight.